


Traces

by WordsBurnGold



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Goodbyes, M/M, New Beginnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-07 03:34:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14662467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsBurnGold/pseuds/WordsBurnGold
Summary: Kyungsoo wants to live without ends. Jongin wants to live in new beginnings. They're further apart than they've ever been, and now Jongin is trying to collect the traces of what they've left behind.





	1. Delivery

When Kyungsoo got home, the sun was beginning to set. The night slowly crept up on day, camouflaging it’s arrival with a watercolor sky. He didn’t realize how busy his day had been until he sat down. The weight of the day he had just lived hung off of him, keeping his slender body anchored to the scratchy fabric of the sofa. Pushing himself up he started making his way to his room, passing the kitchen on his way in. The brown box lay untouched, perched perfectly on the table. When he found it on his doorstep this morning, there was no sign of anyone having left it. The only thing written on the box was his name in thin black letters. Since it was addressed to him, he brought it inside, threw it in the kitchen, and left quickly for school.  

Now, Kyungsoo reached for the box. He wanted to take it and put it in his closet. He was tired and didn’t have the time to fool around with strange objects. The day’s heaviness still lingered on his arms as he tried to pick up the box. He couldn’t keep his arms up for longer than a second and the moment the wrapping paper came in contact with his fingertips, the package tumbled to the floor below. Sighing in annoyance with himself, Kyungsoo knelt down to gather it up again only to discover that the package had opened upon impact and all that lay inside was a black book. Taking it out of the box, he cradled it in his hands and took it inside his bedroom.

 On the outside, Kyungsoo was the epitome of perfect. His black hair was always pushed back neatly, his clothes were always ironed, and his skin always perfectly unflawed. But his room told the reality of who he was. Kyungsoo was always unsure. And with that uncertainty came the lack of committing to things. He never really finished moving into his apartment, because he wasn’t sure if he liked it. So his bedroom was normally a dull square of white and gray.  Today though, soft pinks, purples and blues filtered through his windows and transformed his monotonous bedroom into a dreamlike space. Shedding the weight of his day through peeling off his clothing, he climbed into bed and sat cross legged atop his crumpled gray sheets. He set the book down in front of him, and with his thumb he grazed the edges of the pages, lifting them just enough to reveal small shooting stars drawn on every corner. Filled with curiosity he slowly lifted the front cover and opened the book. There on the first page, written in the same thin black letters that were on the top of the package, were five words he recognized. Five words he soon realized he’d keep coming back to over and over again–

_I wrote this for you._

_-J_

All it took was the look of the letter for Kyungsoo to know who sent the package, who wrote the book. It was from Jongin. The Jongin that was slowly slipping through his fingers. The Jongin that he wasn’t even trying to catch. A tsunami of memories about the disappearing boy suddenly began in Kyungsoo’s head and he wanted to cut them out. He wanted to open a piece of his body and let the memories spill out onto the floor of his bedroom. The way Jongin always looked people in the eyes when he talked. The way Jongin always seemed comfortable. The way words always fit so perfectly on Jongin’s lips, like he was born just to put them together. Kyungsoo remembered it all. Even though he had only opened to the first page, Kyungsoo realized just how much this book embodied Jongin. From the black leather cover, down to the shooting star drawings on each corner. Jongin was exactly this, mysteriously beautiful.

Kyungsoo traced his thumb over the shooting star drawing on the first page. The ink was raised ever so slightly and Kyungsoo was sure he could tell what the drawing was just by feeling it. He was sure he could tell what the drawing was just by knowing Jongin had drawn it. Because Jongin lived his life in shooting stars. On the day they met, Jongin told Kyungsoo the story of the stars. How they were made up of all the things people couldn’t hold. How people would collect their wishes in the stars, and when they fell from the sky they were intended for one person. So that person could know exactly how the other felt. Jongin was made up of everything Kyungsoo wished for, but they were always too far away from one another. Jongin hadn’t fallen from the sky yet. And Kyungsoo hoped he never would.

Once the tide had settled in his head, Kyungsoo flipped passed the first page. With a pounding heart and another ocean storm threatening to commence, Kyungsoo pushed forward and began to read.


	2. Trace 1

_I wish I didn’t exist._

_I want to be anyone but be me, anywhere but here, right now._

_Everything has been so hard lately. I can hardly find the strength to string these words together._

_And I know this isn’t your fault. I never want to make you feel like it is._

_Changing is never something you should blame yourself for._

_In order to live, you need to change, you need to grow. And I’m glad to see you’re growing._

_Even if that means it’s happening without me._

_I can’t help but think of how easy this is for you._

_I know that might not even be the case, but you do so well at making it seem that way, so I believe it._

_And I hope you believe it too._

_I don’t want this to be hard for you. Even if it seems like I’m the one taking on all the difficulties, let me carry them on my own._

_I hope you grow to become someone you’re proud of._

_I hope you find the person who grows right beside you, grows with you._

_And I hope you can go through those changes together, live together, exist together._

_I wish I didn’t exist._

_That way neither of us would know what the other felt like._

_And neither of us would know this exact separation._

_I wish I didn’t exist so that you could have just been Kyungsoo._

_In a world without ever knowing a Jongin._

_But because I do exist, and because we’ve shot across each other’s skies time and time again, we’ve left traces behind._

_I want to collect those traces here._

_Things I’ve always had on the tip on my tongue, but never let out._

_Stardust that has drifted down from the heavens, but has never touched the ground, never made it to you._

_I’ll clean it all up for you now, so that we can both see a clear end without it shining in our eyes, keeping us from moving forward._

_These are the last traces of our shooting stars._

_The next time your sky lights up, I won’t be the one painting the clouds._

_And that’s okay._

_I promise, that’s okay._


	3. Trace 2

_Today is the first of December._

_Today is the beginning of something that always comes, but I’m never prepared for._

_It creeps up on me, like the cold that suddenly blows though the smallest crack in my window._

_December brings nights that never really dissolve into days._

_Skies never really see the sun, and like my heart, they are continuously grey._

_Sometimes it rains and I find the clouds crowding my ceiling, letting small droplets fall into my bedroom. The water soaks into my skin and makes me feel heavy, like I’ll sink to the bottom of the lake that my four walls hold._

_December looks, and feels, and sounds exactly like you._

 

_It wasn’t always like this._

_A year ago, December was magical._

_It never rained. My room was filled with iridescent stars that were splashed across my ceiling. Sometimes they would sprinkle down as I held you in my arms. Your skin soaked them up and there I was, laying right next to the only star in my universe._

 

_Now, December is grey._

_It hasn’t stopped raining, outside my window or inside these walls._

_I’ve never thought about how cold my room could get, but now that I’m the only breath filling it all I long for is any sign of the sun._

_I’m stuck in a perpetual December._

_And I’m starting to believe that I’ll never be able to see the sun again._


	4. Effect

The sunlight was harsh against the satin ocean of Kyungsoo’s bed. It bounced off the sheets and the walls and ended up making a home in his eyes, forcing him awake. With hooded eyes he looked over at the clock on the wall, 7:30am. He had an hour and a half before his first class of the day. Grabbing a towel and heading for the shower, Kyungsoo passed the book on the floor by his bed. He must have fallen asleep reading it, he doesn’t remember stopping, but what he does remember are Jongin’s words floating around in his head; _I wrote this for you._

It had taken more effort than he thought, to convince himself to get ready for class instead of getting back into bed to read. His sense of responsibility was tugging away at him, telling him that if he didn’t leave now he would definitely be late for lecture. But that didn’t stop his intrigue and he picked up the notebook on his way out the door and placed it into his bag.

As soon as his back hit the chair, lecture began. Kyungsoo was a little slower than usual on his trip to university today, and he couldn’t decide if it was because of the weight of Jongin’s book in his bag or because of the weight of the thought of Jongin on his mind. As much as he tried to stay focused, Kyungsoo kept zoning in and out of lecture. His notes on the anatomy of societal cultures began with what makes up a culture, and they ended with twelve solid lines of ‘ _I wrote this for you’._ Even though his bag was on the floor beside him, the weight of Jongin’s book still lingered on Kyungsoo’s back. Traces of the past collided with the ever-changing future upon those pages, and it was all contained between two black covers. He hadn’t physically touched the book since he left his apartment that morning, but the feel of the pages still danced on his fingertips. Kyungsoo rubbed his hands roughly on his jeans in an attempt to bring a normal feeling back to them, in an attempt to feel anything but Jongin’s words lining his skin. But that only transferred the feeling to another part of him.

“Yo, man you okay?” Sliding into the seat next to him was the always late, Park Chanyeol. He and Kyungsoo had been friends since high school. Chanyeol had transferred schools in the middle of the semester and Kyungsoo was the first person he saw when he stepped foot on school grounds. From that point on it was impossible to see Kyungsoo without the taller boy with the goofy smile stuck by his side.

Throwing him a quick smile Kyungsoo nodded, “Yeah I’m good,” and went back to scribbling on his paper.

“I haven’t seen someone rub their legs that hard since that time Baekhyun got poison ivy from peeing in a bush on our school trip.” Chanyeol was suddenly overcome with giggles recalling the memory of a very itchy Byun Baekhyun hiding in a tent on their senior camping trip.

“Just something sticky on my fingers,” Kyungsoo attempted to laugh along with Chanyeol, but his breath swallowed the sound before it even left his lips.

“Can I see your notes? I missed the entire first half of lecture.” Chanyeol reached his hand across the desk over to Kyungsoo’s notebook and tugged at the edge of his paper.

Quickly retracting, Kyungsoo stuffed his notebook into his bag and turned to face Chanyeol, “I didn’t get much sleep last night so my handwriting is awful. You really wouldn’t be able to read them; they wouldn’t be much help anyway.”

“Uh, okay. I’ll just ask Minseok for his tomorrow.”

When his break for lunch rolled around, Kyungsoo found himself seated at a booth in the university café. His plate of pizza sat untouched before him. He wanted so desperately to bring out Jongin’s book from his bag and continue reading it. But he was worried someone would ask him about it and he would have to share. He shouldn’t have even brought it to school. The book was meant for his eyes only, and brining it here, where there was a possibility that someone else’s eyes could catch it, felt like he was betraying Jongin. Kyungsoo felt like he was hurting him all over again. Even now, when they haven’t spoken in months, when they were miles apart from each other, when they didn’t even say the other’s name, Jongin was still getting hurt. Why couldn’t he ever stop hurting him?

“What’s with you today?” A heavy voice forced Kyungsoo out of his thoughts and he slipped back to reality. Chanyeol sat in front of him, jacket zipped up to his chin, curly hair sweeping over his eyes, and the ever-present goofy smile plastered on his face. Except this time, there was concern hidden underneath his cheerful demeanor.

“I just - have a lot of writing to do.” In one swift movement Kyungsoo slung his backpack over his shoulder and started for the door.

“Then let’s go to the library.” Chanyeol’s voice followed behind him as they both made their way out of the cafeteria and into the plaza.

“Maybe some other day.” Kyungsoo picked up his pace.

“Yeah, way too many people. Let’s just study at your place.” Chanyeol caught up with him. His legs were longer and one of his steps was equal to two of Kyungsoo’s.

“Not today, okay.” Kyungsoo stopped walking. He didn’t turn around to face Chanyeol, he didn’t even move, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I hope everything’s good, man!” Chanyeol’s voice called after him, and Kyungsoo nodded his head. He wasn’t sure if it was to assure Chanyeol or to reassure himself. Was everything good?

The sky was nowhere near pastel when Kyungsoo reached his front door. He couldn’t even remember the last time he saw the sun sitting so high up in the powder blue sky. When he crossed the barrier from outside to in, the relief came. He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath the entire walk home, and as soon as the door shut behind him he could finally breathe again. He was back in his own space, and in this space Jongin could exist too. Walking straight to his bedroom, Kyungsoo released Jongin’s book from its concealment and once again dove into the pages.


	5. Trace 3

_Where does a memory go when it is forgotten, Kyungsoo?_

_I think it dies. The memories die._

_Sometimes, I think I’ve died inside of your head._

_But inside of mine, you are immortal._

 

_I’m stuck inside my memories._

_Nothing moves forward here, it only throws me back._

_And maybe that’s okay._

_Maybe that’s how I choose to remember you, even when you’re trying so desperately to forget me._

_Things can’t end if they’ve never begun in the first place, and I can see how the traces of our beginning are chipping away inside of you._

_Our beginning is dying inside of your head._

 

 

_Truthfully, I wanted to be a hero._

_Let myself be forgotten, to save you from all the pain that memories bring._

_But I can’t do that to you, or to me._

_I can’t let myself die inside of your head, and I can’t let you live with the weight of me._

_I can’t bring myself to be the only one remembering you, and me, and us, while watching you forget everything and move on without me._

_I thought I could handle it._

_But it suddenly doesn’t seem all that appealing anymore._

 

_All I wanted was to be in your tomorrows._

_Even though we couldn’t be together, I still wanted you to remember me._


	6. Trace 4

_If I’m being honest, neither of us were supposed to find the other._

_You want to live a life without ends, and I’d like to live in new beginnings._

_But I can’t do that if the ends never come._

_So forgive me when I say that we have to find an end._

_We can’t keep running from each other._

_We can’t continue to live like the other doesn’t exist._

_Especially since we know we aren't the same people we used to be._

_We can’t go back to that before._

_We can only try to live in the after._

_And my after can only begin with an end._

 

_My love, I’ll pray for your next love._

_That it won’t be like us, that it’ll be without pain._

_Please be happier than me._

 

_I wish you were okay with the way you loved me._


	7. Meeting

This time, when Kyungsoo woke up, the sun was rising. There was a pounding in his head, and as he shuffled across the room to turn the light on, the pounding got louder. On his journey from his bedroom to the kitchen, Kyungsoo realized that the pounding was coming not from his head, but from his front door. Without asking who was knocking, without looking through the peephole, Kyungsoo opened the door.

There, standing no more than two feet away, was Jongin. They hadn’t seen each other in two years, and there he was looking the exact same, like he stepped out of a memory. It looked like he had just gotten back from a stay by the ocean. The way the sun illuminated Jongin’s skin made Kyungsoo aware just how much time he kept himself inside. Kyungsoo suddenly realized how different they were. Where Jongin’s hair was tousled, Kyungsoo’s was slicked back. Where Jongin was comfortable, Kyungsoo was stuffing his hands in his pockets, eyes on the floor. There was Jongin, wanting to tie ends together, and there was Kyungsoo, wanting to leave them floating in the wind. Jongin had always been so sure of everything, and the way he had appeared at Kyungsoo’s front door meant that he had already made a decision.

“It’s good to see you again.” Jongin’s voice was just as it had always been, smooth and gentle, like words were created just to be spoken by him.

Kyungsoo thought the polite thing to do would be to invite him in, but he couldn’t form the words. Instead, he moved out of the doorway and waited for Jongin to make his way inside. Closing the door behind him, Kyungsoo lead the way to the sofa and sat at the edge, but Jongin didn’t sit. He still stood in the doorway, his back against the doorframe, “If I sit I’m afraid it will be harder for me to leave.”

Seeing him now, after all this time, made Kyungsoo remember why he never liked ends. When things ended, it meant having to confront them. It meant they’d have to realize that they were never really meant to know one another and that this whole thing, the time they spent together, was never supposed to happen. Endings meant admitting that mistakes were made, and Kim Jongin was not a mistake.

Kyungsoo hadn’t noticed before, but now he was sure. Jongin’s eyes never left him. From the moment he opened the door, Jongin’s copper eyes were fixated on him, drawing out every possible reply to the statement that was perched on Jongin’s lips, “I’m here to begin our end.”

The sun was making its pilgrimage to high sky, spilling over the tops of the clouds. Kyungsoo’s eyes were red. His lips were white. The silence was black. Kyungsoo broke, and Jongin was too far away to even attempt to catch him.

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be 'star-crossed lovers' type of story, so I hope that's the feeling it gave.Thanks so much for reading my little story! I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
